


Tickletober Day 2 - Feathers

by august_anon



Series: Tickletober 2020 [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Rated T for swearing, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26780806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/august_anon/pseuds/august_anon
Summary: Jaskier seems to have misplaced his quill. He finds himself in a rather ticklish position once Geralt finds it.Warning: This is a tickle fic!!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Tickletober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949143
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	Tickletober Day 2 - Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are, day 2! Hope y'all enjoy this one!! Thanks for reading!

Jaskier hummed a melody under his breath as he wrote out his newest lyrics, inspired by Geralt’s bruxa hunt last week. He added some embellishments, sure (Geralt was so stingy with the details, anyway), but such was the nature of art. Jaskier was sure he’d get Geralt to understand, one day.

His composing was then rudely interrupted by Geralt busting into their shared room, sending the door crashing into the wall. Jaskier held back a wince. He  _ really _ hoped there wasn’t any damage, there. They couldn’t exactly afford to pay the innkeeper back for it, if there was.

“Must you break every door you come across?” Jaskier asked, tucking his quill behind his ear for safekeeping, ignoring the tingling sensation as he slid it across his skin.

Geralt grunted and dropped two plates full of food on their rickety table, thankfully much more carefully than he opened the door. Jaskier sighed. Geralt was probably so surly because of how rude the local townsfolk had been to them since they arrived, which Jaskier certainly couldn’t fault him for. Even Jaskier himself had been losing his patience with them, which was why he had been upstairs composing instead of downstairs earning some much-needed coin.

For once, Jaskier didn’t feel the need to start conversation. He left Geralt to his own devices as they ate, focusing on his songbook, tapping out beats with one hand and eating with the other. Years ago, he would’ve been worried about staining the parchment with food, but travelling with a witcher rid one of those worries rather quickly. Jaskier had many songbooks tucked away in Oxenfurt that were stained with far worse than a mediocre stew.

It was only after he finished eating that Jaskier decided to go back to jotting down lyrics, reaching for where he assumed he’d left his quill on the table. Only, his quill wasn’t there. He looked up from his notebook to find that it wasn’t  _ anywhere _ on the table, though he can’t imagine he’d set it down somewhere else, considering he’d not moved since Geralt arrived back to the room.

“What did you lose, now?” Geralt asked, glancing over towards the end table by the bed, as if he even knew what he was looking for.

“My…” Jaskier started, but trailed off absentmindedly as he ducked his head under the table to check the floor beneath it and the chairs.

“Your  _ what _ ?”

Jaskier snapped back into the present, sitting up again. “My quill. I could’ve sworn I just had it before you came in, but I seem to have misplaced it now.”

Geralt stared at him.

Jaskier stared back.

Geralt continued staring, expression slowly shifting from  _ are you serious _ to  _ are you a fucking idiot _ .

“What?” Jaskier asked. “Is there something on my face?”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier reached up to rub around his mouth, worried that perhaps he’d managed to get food stuck to him somewhere. How unattractive that would be! Though, he supposed Geralt could always kiss it off…

But there was nothing on his face.

“I truly have no idea why you’re looking at me like that.”

Geralt huffed out a noise that was almost a laugh, though not quite. He shook his head and reached out toward the side of Jaskier’s head. Jaskier frowned. Had he ruffled his hair so badly while he was working on his songs that even  _ Geralt _ thought it needed fixing? He really ought to be more aware of it, if he was tugging on his hair that hard. He had an image to maintain, after all.

But Geralt didn’t smooth his hair down. In fact, Geralt’s hand didn’t touch Jaskier at all. Instead, he grabbed onto something just above Jaskier’s ear and tugged.

And Jaskier  _ squealed _ .

He jerked backwards, nearly toppling his entire chair over with him still in it. The tingly, ticklish feeling was still echoing against his ear and the skin behind it, teasing him and making him want to squirm even though the moment had passed. Rubbing vigorously at his ear and looking up, Jaskier saw his quill pinched between two of Geralt’s fingers.

“My quill!” He said, hoping to distract Geralt from the scene he just made with his cheering. “Thank you, my dear, I--”

“What  _ was _ that?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier plastered on his widest, most charming smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Could I have my quill, please? I just had an idea for a wonderful set of lyrics”

Geralt stared at Jaskier, then eyed the quill. Then his eyes moved back to Jaskier, settling on his ear for a moment, and then trailing back to the quill. Understanding sparked in Geralt’s eyes, and butterflies began to swarm in Jaskier’s stomach.

“Now, Geralt,” Jaskier said, giving up all semblance of dismissing what had just happened, “let’s talk about this.”

Geralt, never one for talking, lunged.

Jaskier shrieked and scrambled backwards, this time  _ actually _ toppling his chair and sending himself to the floor. Geralt must have been going easy on him, because even with Jaskier losing precious time to reorient himself, Geralt still hadn’t pinned him to the floor to torment him. He rolled over and crawled away, trying to get his feet under him in the process, but their room was only so big, and Geralt wasn’t afraid to use his mutations to his advantage.

Jaskier barely made it a couple of feet before Geralt pushed him to the floor on his stomach and,  _ oh _ , this was so much worse than Jaskier was expecting. He should’ve just waited and let Geralt pin him before scrambling away, at least then he would’ve been on his back and been able to at least  _ pretend _ to fight Geralt off. Now, though, he had no hope of reaching behind his back to protect himself. Maybe Geralt hadn’t been going easy on him, after all, and instead was making a calculated decision on how best to destroy him.

That certainly sounded much more likely.

And it wasn’t as though Jaskier was truly upset with the course the evening had taken. Truly, he didn’t mind being tickled, even enjoyed it sometimes (and he was certain he’d enjoy it if it was  _ Geralt _ doing the tickling), but the thing was, Jaskier tended to be  _ loud _ . He squealed and shrieked and squirmed enough to knock over furniture. His laugh was loud, and he had quite the large capacity for it, considering his singer’s lungs.

Oh, Jaskier really hoped they wouldn’t get kicked out of this inn for being too noisy. He really missed sleeping in a soft, warm bed, rude townsfolk be damned.

And then Jaskier heard a rumbling hum above him, the feathery end of his quill touching down on the sensitive skin behind his ear. Instead of making a futile effort to fight Geralt off, Jaskier shot his hands forward to cover his mouth. Normally, he would be wary of leaving his underarms exposed, but Jaskier doubted that a feather’s touch would be able to affect him through both his chemise and doublet.

His following squeals were thankfully muffled by his hands so as to not cause too much of a disturbance, but Jaskier still couldn’t help but squirm wildly. He wiggled where he rested between Geralt’s knees, not sure if he wished that Geralt would straddle him fully so he could be held still or if he wanted Geralt to move completely so that he could escape. His legs were kicking frantically, out of his control, boots making rather loud contact with the chair Jaskier had knocked over as he flailed.

“Are you really this ticklish?” Geralt huffed, and Jaskier swore he heard a smile in his voice.

If Jaskier wasn’t busy trying to keep himself contained, he would be offended at how calm Geralt sounded. He giggled and squealed, yet it somehow didn’t occur to him that he could shake his head back and forth to escape the feather. Instead, he just shoved his forehead into the floor, hands over his mouth, and made increasingly high-pitched noises.

“I suppose that’s a yes,” Geralt said.

Geralt shifted above him and the feather suddenly jumped from behind Jaskier’s ear, to the inside of the shell. Jaskier yelped and his hands flew away from his mouth to pound on the floor. He twisted his head and pressed the tormented ear into the floor, but Geralt simply took that as an opportunity to gently pin his head to the floor and go after his other ear.

Jaskier shrieked and squirmed, but he couldn't escape. His giggles were bordering on frantic as the soft feather teased around and inside the shell of his ear. Even Geralt was beginning to chuckle above him, clearly enjoying himself at Jaskier’s expense.

“Geralt,  _ please _ !” Jaskier managed to wheeze out eventually, when he felt like the feeling was finally beginning to become too much.

Geralt slid the feather up the back of Jaskier’s neck, making him shiver, before pulling it away completely. He removed his hand from Jaskier’s head, allowing him to raise it again, and Jaskier instantly brought his hand up to rub frantically at his ear. 

Geralt leaned back to give Jaskier some space, but he didn’t lift himself off of Jaskier completely, still kneeling over him. Jaskier decided to take advantage of that, rolling over and wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck, tugging him down. Geralt went down with a grunt, hands landing on either side of Jaskier’s head, and Jaskier tangled their legs together.

“I thought you wanted to work,” Geralt said, smirking with a raised eyebrow.

Jaskier hummed. “No, no. You owe me love and affection, now. I demand it. Cuddle me, dear witcher, before I perish from a broken heart.”

“And the floor is the most comfortable place for that?”

“Unless you’re planning to carry me to the bed.”

Geralt lowered himself just enough to press a chaste, lingering kiss onto his lips before pushing himself back up. Jaskier grinned up at him.

“That could be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope y'all enjoyed it! See you tomorrow with an ATLA tfic!


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